Picking Up The Spare
by Autumn Rayne
Summary: Number 15 in the post "Ripple of Hope" saga.


**a/n: **I honestly never thought we would get this far, but I am entirely happy that we're here! Number 16, baby!

**Picking Up The Spare**

I pull my phone out of my pocket and send Kate a text. _Any time now…_

Her response is quick and I nearly fumble the phone as I read it. _Can't come out now. Naked._

I slip the phone back into my pocket and take a deep breath. Somewhere in that hallway, behind one of those wooden doors, is Kate, naked. And I want nothing more than to enter that small changing room and…

And help her decide which outfit to buy.

I turn to my left, spotting a middle-aged sales clerk a couple of racks away from me. She keeps looking at me out of the corner of her eyes and, if I'm not mistaken, there is a hint of a smile across her lips. She turns away from me and continues to tidy the display table of jeans. I look at the stack of jeans and my attention shifts back to the dressing rooms. I'm curious as to what Kate is trying on. She wears dresses and dress pants with fancy blouses at the office. I have never really seen her do 'casual'.

And the 'I-heart-Lake-Tahoe' hoodie doesn't really count.

Though, it was nice…especially when it was wet and clinging to her body…

I hear a quiet laugh and I look at the sales clerk again. There is a full smile on her face now. She sets down a pair of jeans and makes her way over to me.

"You're a wonderful man," she says, patting my arm. "Waiting for your girl. She's a very lucky woman." I smile politely and nod as she walks away. As soon as she is out of sight, I pull my phone out of my pocket again. _Will you please hurry?_

Kate answers my text, though not with one of her own. I hear Kate clear her throat and when I raise my eyes from my phone's screen, she is standing at the entrance of the hallway. She puts up her arms, resting her hands at shoulder height along the frame of the doorway.

"Hi-ya, Benny." My jaw hits the floor. The dark pair of blue jeans she is wearing hug her so nicely. The loops of the white crocheted top are small and feminine, but big enough to offer an exquisite peek at the black tank top she's wearing underneath.

"H-Hi," I stammer. Okay, so Kate does casual…very nicely.

#

I pull my Aston Martin into my parking space and kill the engine. I look at Kate as I remove the keys from the ignition. There is a cute frown of confusion across her forehead.

"Why are we here?" she asks.

"I have to get one more thing before we go to dinner with my parents," I answer. I open the door and motion for her to get out of the car. "Wait here." She cocks her head to the side as she leans her back against the passenger door, but she remains quiet. As I jog through the parking garage, I can't help but wonder what Kate will make of what she is about to see. I imagine there will be several snarky comments thrown in my direction. I stop next to an old, beat up red Honda and slip the key into the lock. Sitting in the driver's seat, I look around the faded interior. "Yep. I'll get snarky," I mutter. I start the engine and drive back to Kate.

"What's this?" she asks as I step out of the Honda.

"My car."

"Very funny, Benedict," she laughs. "Who did you steal this from?"

"I didn't steal it from anyone," I shrug. "This is mine."

"This…is _your_ car?" She tilts her head to the side and starts to giggle. "How old _is_ this thing?"

"Just hop in, Katie." I rest my arms on the frame about the driver's door and wait for her laughing fit to end.

"Come one," she coos. "I really want to know." As she takes a few steps to the side, I find myself suddenly intrigued by the look on her face. "It's what…a '90?" She leans the fronts of her legs against the side of the car and bends forward slightly. "Or a '91?" My eyes drop to her hands, which are now seductively caressing the hood of my vehicle.

"It's…uh…it's an '87," I answer. This is not the snark I had in mind.

"Nineteen eighty-seven," she purrs. It's difficult, but I manage to lift my eyes from her 'wax on, wax off' technique. And I find Kate's face much more intriguing.

"We should get…get going, Katie." She smiles impishly and slowly pushes her hands from the side of the car to the middle of the hood. "Don't…don't do that?"

"What's the matter, Benny? Afraid I'm going to pop the hood?"

"Get in the car, Katie." She pouts, but obliges. As I slip into the driver's seat and snap my seatbelt into place, I look at her, expectance written all over her face. "What?"

"So what's with the Cloak and Dagger act?"

"There's no Cloak and Dagger act."

"Sure there is. This," she says, motioning around the cab with her hands. "This isn't you."

"My dad is a plumber, Katie, remember? And Mom works at the library." I shrug. "They don't make much. I don't like to flaunt my money." She swats a hand at my shoulder and her bout of giggles starts up again.

"Liar! You _so_ like to flaunt your money, Mr. I Like Nice Things."

"Okay. I don't like to flaunt my money in front of my parents," I correct. Clients and women? A completely different story. "Can we go now?" She nods and fastens her seatbelt.

"You are one surprise inside another," Kate says. She leans over the console and places a soft kiss on my cheek. "And I like surprises."

#

"Sit here, Kate," my mom says, pulling out the chair next to the seat she has chosen.

"O-okay. Thank you." As Mom and Kate settle themselves, Dad and I take the chairs on the other side of the table. Mom asking Kate to sit next to her is…curious. Not in a bad way, though. Mom has always been nice to the few women to whom I have introduced her. But, being a parent, there has always been a need to assess. This usually means that said woman never sits or stands next to Mom, giving Mom a chance to observe behavior. _"People can put on quite a show,"_ she used to say. _"What better way to see a girl's true colors than to watch her when she doesn't know she's being watched."_ I still maintain that whole theory is very stalker-ish.

However, Mom has yet to do this with Kate. In fact, there was no awkward introductions as we met my parents in the parking lot. Mom gave Kate a big hug and took her arm, practically dragging her into the building.

"I hope you don't mind that we are eating here at the bowling alley, Kate," Mom says. "I just had a craving for good pizza." She leans over and gently elbows Kate's arm. "Doesn't hurt that owner always gives us a free pitcher of beer, either." Kate smiles widely and the women share a laugh. Yes, my mother, the quiet librarian, is quite the partier when in the mood.

The service here is fast; we are at the table only ten minutes before our pizza and beer arrive. But halfway through my second slice of pizza and I'm no longer hungry. Mom insists on telling Kate every Baby-Benny story she can think of. Oh, the first few are cute, of course. These stories are, after all, about me. It's the one she's _currently_ telling, the one that makes me pray she'll hit her head and forget, that makes me drop my slice of pizza on my plate in defeat.

"Ben was maybe six at the time. He came out of his bedroom with his favorite blanky—"

"Mother," I whine. She shoots me a stern look and continues.

"Favorite blanky," she says pointedly, "wrapped around his shoulders." She laughs and puts a hand on Kate's arm. "He runs through the living room, screaming 'it's a bird, it's a plane'. And then he jumps up on the sofa…" My mother is laughing so hard right now, she's crying. "When he turns around and looks at me, he says 'it's Superman'. And that's when I notice he doesn't have any clothes on!" I put my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands. Dad pats my shoulder, trying to comfort me through this torture. "No socks, no little white briefs! Nothing!"

"Okay, ha ha," I mutter. "Are the two of you finished cackling now?"

"If we're all done eating, we should grab a lane," Dad says.

"Yes. Please," I say.

"Well, I think I want to change things up a little bit tonight," Mom announces. She wipes the napkin over her mouth and sets it in the middle of her plate.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I want to bowl." I look at Dad, who appears to be just as confused as I feel.

"I thought that was the plan, Mom."

"Oh, Honey." She leans forward, tapping a finger on the table. "I want to _bowl_. Really bowl." She laughs almost evilly as she leans back in the chair. "I'm on to the two of you; have been for years. All this time I've been throwing my game, hoping to score low enough that you would get sick of letting me win. But tonight…tonight I am bringing my A game and I am going to win for real." She takes Kate's hand. "Girls against boys. Ready?" she asks Kate. Kate looks at me and offers a vicious smile.

"Game on," she agrees.

#

"Dad?" I whisper as Mom readies herself in front of our lane. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "She used to bowl a lot in high school, but I've never known her to be any good." I watch curiously as Mom heaves the red and gold bowling ball down the lane. Dad and I stand, almost in slow motion, our eyes following the ball. It is headed for the gutter but at the last possible moment, it hooks to the left and nails the lot just behind the head pin.

Strike.

Mom turns around and does a victory dance that should completely embarrass me, but I'm too dumbfounded by what I have just witnessed to care about humiliation. She trots back to the chairs and stands in front of me. She has to grab my chin and force my attention down to her because I am still staring at the big red LCD 'x' over the end of our lane.

"Your turn, Sweet Pea."

"Yeah. Okay." I flick my eyes back to the lane. "Okay." Confusion makes way for determination and I step up to the line. The ball rolls off my fingers, perfectly sliding across the oiled wood, and finds the sweet spot. I turn to the group, smiling triumphantly. "Strike," I say as I pass Kate. "You're up, Katrinka." She smirks and heads to the ball return. I can't help feeling extremely confident about this competition, even with Mom's surprise talent, as Kate takes two steps to her right, then two to her left, then one to her right. She clearly doesn't know where to stand. And the way she's holding the ball? Sheesh. I tap Dad's arm. "Ten bucks she uses both hands and rolls from between her legs." He laughs until Mom gives us 'the look'. I watch Kate as she rubs a hand over the ball and then slips her fingers into the holes. An odd feeling starts building in my stomach and I think, without really thinking, that I'm about to be schooled. I hear the familiar sounds of clunking pins and the red 'x' appears above the lane.

"Yes! Go, Kate!" Mom yells, clapping her hands as she jumps up and down. Kate gives her a high-five and struts towards me.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that I played league in high school?" she asks with an innocence that, frankly, should be banned from her arsenal.

We continue through the game, Mom and Kate pulling strike after strike. Dad and I are holding our own with two spares each, but there is no way we're going to win. So I decide to play the only way left to play.

Dirty.

Kate steps into place, taking a deep breath as she focuses on the pins. I jump from my chair and move behind her.

"Gotcha!" I yell, grabbing her waist and scaring the hell out of her. The ball rolls into the gutter just two feet passed the line.

"Benedict Yancy!" I freeze, as does everyone else in the bowling alley. I open my mouth to say…something, anything, but a young man two lanes from us says it for me.

"Dude!" he yells. "You just got middle-named by your mother _and_ your girlfriend!"

a/n: Since the PMs have not been working for me, thank you to everyone who has dropped me a well-wishes note. I 3 you guys!


End file.
